Dead Men Don't Bake Pies
by Wings Of Sanguine
Summary: News of a man with a special gift reaches the ears of the Order, as well as the Ministry. Ned was a simple pie maker until he is whisked away into a world filled with magic beyond his own ability. Now he must choose how to use his power as the Ministry takes over Hogwarts and a certain dark wizard is after him. DISCLAIMER: I DO NOT OWN HARRY POTTER OR PUSHING DAISIES OR CHARACTERS
1. Chapter 1

It was exactly one o'clock when Ned learned of the news. Chuck was on vacation, stalking her weird aunts as usual. Emerson was knitting his niece a sweater that would never be finished in a booth by the window of the Pie Hole. Olive was in the kitchen, the smell of apricot and kiwi wafting through the silver double doors.

Papen County was a cookie cutter town with brightly colored houses. The morgue was a major landmark (as it seemed perfectly normal for any small town), and Ned was exactly twenty nine years, seven months, five days, two hours, seven minutes and ten seconds old when he received an unmarked letter.

On it in thin green curling ink was the following:

 _Ned The Piemaker_

 _The Kitchen Of The Pie Hole Restaurant_

 _The Town Of Coeurs D' Coeurs_

 _Papen County, Lakeshore_

Ned glanced around, the thin yellowed envelope gently pressed between his palms. Emerson was knitting a sweater for his niece in a booth by the window. Olive was in the kitchen baking pies. Chuck was on vacation with her crazy aunts.

So no one paid him any mind when he slipped a flour caked nail under the lip of the envelope, the rip of paper echoing in the empty diner.

"Dear Mr. Ned," Ned began to read aloud, "We regret to inform you of your loss…"

Loss? Last the piemaker checked, he didn't lose anything or anyone. Even if he did, they'd most likely come back. He scanned the rest of the page, not entirely sure he understood what it said.

"Huh."

An address was written at the bottom of the note, asking him to arrive there at precisely three in the afternoon.

"Twelve Grimmauld Place…?" Ned read aloud, squinting at the words inscribed just underneath.

The Order of the Phoenix. The piemaker scrunched his nose at the words; he figured it was most likely some sort of new gang (not that the little town of Coeurs D' Coeurs had those. At least he hoped not.)

Apparently the pie maker was a slow reader, for exactly at one thirty, a family waltzed into the Pie Hole. There was a loud ruckus as the family seated themselves in a booth by the window, adjacent to one Emerson Cod's table. All were redheads, and rather rambunctious, Ned noticed.

Except for two. A boy and a girl, both chuckling at the family's antics. The girl had bushy brown hair and was wearing a faded pink tee with blue jeans. Her smile reminded Ned of Chuck's own, and in that instant, his mind was wandering, his hands creeping along the counter. A box of clear plastic wrap sat just to his left.

And suddenly he imagined kissing Chuck through the sheet, as they always did. He imagined that he was on vacation with her (wherever she was.) He imagined that wherever Chuck was he was, and they were kissing, and they were passionately kissing through the sheet of plastic wrap, and…

And suddenly Olive was there. Olive Snook, aged twenty-something, five days, ten hours, nineteen minutes and one second old, was in his fantasy, trying to get his attention.

"Ned!"

The plastic wrap was suddenly wrenched from his face, a pop sounding as it came unstuck from his lips.

"Wha-"

"I need to go make a delivery," the petite blonde woman stated, "so I'm just gonna let you do your little thing…"

And before he knew it, Olive was gone. Apparently Emerson had left as well, the only patrons in the shop being the family and the two kids. Oh, and Digby, his dog.

He really hated talking to people, save Chuck. And coincidentally Olive and Emerson; granted he felt they were more obligation than enjoyment. So now Ned was forced to speak with these people of undetermined origin. In fact, he was mumbling introductions to himself, tapping his pencil against a small legal pad.

"Are you alright, love?" a woman's voice pulled him out of his trance, and the words seemed to pour from his mouth.

"Hi I'm the Pie Hole, welcome to Ned-"

Laughter erupted from a pair of twin boys, and Ned shuddered as they mocked him. Mocking always made Ned shudder, and he nearly dropped his pencil at their poor imitation.

"Bloke can't even speak right, George!"

"Granted, he was sucking face with a piece of plastic, Fred," the one called George pointed out. A burn sieged through the chef's skin as he realized the horrid truth.

"So you saw that…"

"You were out in the open," said Fred.

"Kinky stuff, mate," George commented, and at that moment, Ned slumped his shoulders, the desire to disappear bubbling inside his gut.

"Welcome to the Pie Hole, I'm Ned, and since Olive decided to go traipsing about twon with my dog Digby, who si definitely not dead, I'll be your server today." Ned rambled as only he would, adding "Actually, Olive is traipsing about town by herself, Digby is in the kitchen taking a nap." Talking to people was really Olive's job.

"You allow dogs in this establishment?" spoke up a little redheaded girl. Well, she was more young adult than little, but being so tall, Ned towered over everyone.

"Normally, animals are not allowed in restaurants, but seeing as I own the Pie Hole, Digby comes and goes as he pleases. I have yet to receive a complaint." This was true. Until a certain Emerson Cod, aged forty-something, five days, five minutes and ten seconds old, waltzed in one morning. Digby had chewed up his knitting, and that was before he found out about Ned's gift. "What would you like to order?"

"Hey, why were you doing that? That thing with the plastic wrap?" chimed in the oldest man determined to be the father, "Or is that just a Mu-"

"If you're curious of my activities outside of the Pie Hole, I can assure you that there's nothing out of the ordinary," Ned found the words tumbling forth, "I definitely don't go to creepy morgues, and I most definitely don't bring people back to life, as that is simply preposterous. My girlfriend, Chuck, who's on vacation with her aunts who might not really be her aunts but her mothers, is definitely not dead, and I definitely didn't reanimate her; she's very alive and human, more human than you and I, even, and I'm going to go back into the kitchen and slam my head in the oven along with the pies." Heaving a sigh, Ned placed the notepad and pencil down on the table, well aware of the stares boring into his back.

Oh, how he sometimes wished he could use his magic finger on himself. Of course, it'd be redundant, an endless cycle of life and not life. Ned took his place at the counter, watching the family squabble over what pie they should order, the clock ticking down the minutes to closing time. And he couldn't wait until Olive returned and Digby woke up from hi snap, for the colores painted on the wall were giving him an obnoxiously strong headache, the letter sitting on the counter unnerving him.

For one thing, he never really gave out his address much. That, and he didn't really have many friends to give it out to. Sure, there was the occasional woman who found him attractive and tried flirting, but Ned was not good with flirting. The one time it had been a man, and Ned found himself shaking in the corner of his kitchen that he neglected his pies, allowing them to get burnt. Olive closed the Pie Hole early that day, forcing a cup of rum and vodka down his throat to wake him up.

Did he have a stalker? It was possible- Olive expressed her interest in him quite vocally, but he highly doubted the tiny woman was capable of anything so…. enthralling. He stared at the letter again, able to see his fingerprints through the paper, it was so thin. The family had stopped quarreling, which was good- Ned hated fighting, even if it was friendly banter. It made him uncomfortable.

Slipping the note into his pocket, he approached the table once more, focusing on the brown haired girl who was not Chuck. He knew that it wasn't Chuck, but since she _looked_ like Chuck it might have calmed him down, so that was what he was gonna do.

"Have you all, uh, decided…?" Ned cleared his throat into his fist, picking up the notepad he had left. Thankfully, they had all written what they wanted, but for some reason, the writing was...

"Odd."

The woman (whom Ned assumed was the mother) raised an eyebrow at him as he narrowed his eyes at the page. "Odd? How so, dear?" Ned tapped the writing with his pencil.

"None of these are on the menu," he said, his voice coming out as barely a squeak. The clock ticked ominously in the background. The small numbers teased that it was exactly two fifty-five in the afternoon.

"Oh, I have that thing at three…" Ned wondered aloud, withdrawing his letter to stare at it again. It wasn't Chuck, but it would have to do. The woman eyed it carefully, her eyes widening with recognition. He shook it, "You guys got one too?"

"Boys, take the girls and Harry back to the car," the woman ordered calmly.

"But-"

"Now! I need to discuss something with Ned here!" she quipped, and the entire family seemed to just… disappear, leaving the woman smiling sweetly at him and his letter. The woman jutted her chin at the letter, "A party invite?"

Ned shrugged, quickly showing her the green handwriting, "I have no idea. There's no return address and quite frankly when there's no return address I tend to get a little nervous, y' see, because there's always the possibility of me having a stalker- although I know Olive would never do such a thing, she's too loud and would get caught first thing and _what exactly are you doing?!_

Ned held his hands up in defense as the woman withdrew a rather long, brown wooden stick, holding it as if she were in a fencing class and not a quaint little pie shop. The wood was splintered towards the end, with a plain spiraling design around the hilt. The hilt? It was a _stick_!

And with the way she was waving around said stick and mumbling nonsense under her breath, Ned was pretty sure he should call Emerson Cod. Well, the cops too, but the pie maker hated large groups, and quite frankly, Emerson was familiar to him. Like when you're a child and your blankets have that certain smell only the soap your mother used detergent with in the laundry and years later when you've been cavorting around with an angry large man and a woman who is dead yet not dead and you suddenly smell it-

Yes, Emerson Cod was a comforting, familiar person in Ned's life, whether he wanted to admit it or not.

"What are you doing with that…..?" Ned raised an eyebrow at her and she groaned. Witha flick of her wrist, she shouted one word (Ned was unable to recognize it as any true for of language):

"Incarcerous!"

And that was how Ned (aged twenty nine years, seven months, five days, two hours, seven minutes and ten seconds old- make that fifteen seconds, as time seemed to fly by) found himself ushered to a rather beat up blue cr crammed with kids, flour staining his apron and his wrists bound in front of him with a pristinely knotted white rope.

"Is this a kidnapping?" Ned dared to ask as he was politely squeezed into the vehicle, holding his hands to his chest as he found himself pushed up against the window, next to the redhaired twins. They eyed him curiously, trying (and failing) to stifle their laughter.

"What's the address say on your letter, dear?" the woman leaned over her shoulder in the passenger seat, and before Ned could protest the two boys were patting him down, sticking their hands in pockets and whatever else.

"I thi- _Ah! Okay, you're touching me! You're touching me, stop touching me_!" Ned wrenched himself away as best he could- he couldn't really risk touching strangers unless he knew for a fact they were really living, not just the dead brought back to life. But they had survived, and were handing the letter to their mother.

"Twelve Grimmauld Place, Arthur," the woman said to the driver, a gasp following as she read the rest of the note.

"What? What is it?" the twins cried in unison, followed by an eye roll from their sister- not the one who wasn't Chuck, but the one with long red hair and freckles dotting her face.

"What would the Order want with him?" Arthur asked, eyeing him in the mirror.

"I dunno," the woman said, "but we'll definitely have Sirius explain when we get there-"

The Order. There was that name again. And Sirius- who was he? Their leader?

If this Order's leader wanted to kidnap him so much, he should have waited until either Ned's shift was over or it was closing time for the Pie Hole. His pies had been left unguarded and who _knew_ what shenanigans Olive and Digby would get up to without him around?

"Mum, I'm hungry!"

"Ron, you're always hungry!"

Ned watched as the girl who was not Chuck argued with a redhaired boy considerably younger than the twins sitting next to him. _Maybe….?_ Ned's thoughts trailed, and he found himself piping up, his cheek pressed against the tiny glass window of the car.

"I-I could bake you a pie…." Ned mumbled, averting his eyes only to flinch as one of the twins grabbed his chin, forcing the pie maker to look them square in the face.

"You bake?" they asked. Ned nodded.

"Yes, now please let go of me." Ned's voice was a whisper, and with smug grins they released his chin, leaving faint red marks from their fingers.

"Perfect!" Arthur cried from the front, "We're almost there!"

Ned felt his stomach drop at the prospect of being 'almost there.' It was an ominous sentence, one that was not truly needed yet there for obvious reasons alone. It was almost like announcing that one of his pies were almost done in the oven, when in fact they would have exactly five minutes left to bake and stew in their own juices. Not a minute more nor a minute less.

It took him a while to realize that they were no longer in Papen County, with its freakishly brightly colored houses, but a rather ramshackle town, brownstones and dingy shops lining the streets. And that was when Ned's acid reflux kicked in.

Later he had found out it was not because of the state of the town, simply heartburn, as the car turned onto a flat dirt road leading up to a rather macabre building, a sign on the front announcing that they had indeed arrived at Twelve Grimmauld Place.


	2. Chapter 2

Remus and Sirius were sitting in the dining room, laughing at Tonks as she made her nose turn into the snout of a pig when the Weasley family practically barged in, Harry and Hermione in tow. Molly and Arthur were in the front, and George and Fred (curse those sneaky kids!) lolly-gagged in the back, squishing the three others into a human sandwich.

Dust floated in the room by the windows, which were covered in their own layer of grime and filth. Remus knew he kept telling Sirius to clean it, but with that batty old portrait screaming all the time, they were never going to be able to. Molly immediately engulfed the man in a bear hug, Sirius stiffening slightly as he awkwardly returned it. The wallpaper which had once been a deep green was now brown and flaky, floorboards creaking as the rest of the group came in.

"How's my favorite little witch!" Tonks laughed as she grabbed Hermione, ruffling the girl's brown hair.

"I'm not _little_ , Tonks-" Hermione began to protest, jumping as the older witch morphed her face into that of a crow, black feathers poking out from where her eyebrows and hair once were. Going round the table to take a seat next to Sirius, across from Tonks, she scrunched her nose at her. Already, Molly was in the kitchen, the sounds of pots and pans clinking loudly from the door.

"Technically your hair makes up for most of you," Sirius' eyes twinkled as he joked with Hermione, receiving an eyeroll from her and a grunt of suppressed laughter from his godson. It made Remus smile, to see Sirius so happy again, the way his dark eyes lit up ever so slightly once Harry was with him.

"So, where's Kingsley?" Arthur asked, plopping himself down at the head of the table, "After all, he was the one who gave us the heads up about our boy here, right?" Remus cocked his head (force of habit, being a werewolf and all) as he gave Tonks a quick peck on her cheek before approaching the twins. Oddly enough, they had been conversing amongst themselves, not fooling around or tricking the rest of the Order as they normally would. Arthur's words he swatted away as if they were flies.

"He's with Dumbledore at Hogwarts right now, Arthur…" Remus said, his voice trailing as he eyed Fred and George, the two boys waving their wands and jabbing at, well, someone. They poked and prodded him with their wands, the man looking rather uncomfortable and small for his height. Not that he was actually a small person; no, he was rather gigantic (almost as tall, if not the same height, as Hagrid), but he did his best to draw himself into his being, his shoulders stooped forward, hands bound at his chest. His brown hair was messy, and his eyes had a sort of puppy-ish look about them, his lips pink in contrast to his pale skin.

Bound at his chest? That didn't seem right.

Clearing his throat, Remus caught the twins attention, "Gred! Forge!"

Just as he hoped, the boys beamed at the use of their "nicknames." Withdrawing their wands, they playfully punched his arms, "Hey, Moony! Long time, no see!"

"And what have you boys been up to?" Remus grinned, raising an eyebrow. No one else was paying them any mind, Hermione and Harry cackling as Tonks was morphing hr face to tease Remus behind his back, no doubt.

"Aw, you know- a little of this, a little of that…" George said nonchalantly, "And hey we kidnapped a guy today!"

"Yeah, I'm surprised Mum even allowed us to do it, considering how she blew her top when we blew up a toilet last year-"

" _I DID NOT CONDONE THIS REMUS LUPIN_!" came Molly Weasley's frantic cry as she raced from the kitchen, waving a soup ladle in her fst as if it were a sword. During the argument, the twins produced whoever it was they were poking at, the man looking very startled indeed.

"I-is this a crime ring?" he asked, "May I go home?"

"Ned, is it?" Remus asked, and the man gaped in surprise. It was rather cute, the way his lips formed a perfect oval, his thick eyebrows furrowing in shock. But the werewolf knew no one was near as cte as Tonks, who materialized next to him, eyeing the man curiously as he stuttered.

"Y-you know my name, that's not possible, I don't know you…." he trailed, adding, "Unless of course you're a friend of Olive's and this is one of her many ploys to force me into a relationship with her, as jealousy amongst women cannot be rivaled when it comes to getting what they want. By social norms, had Olive introduced you to me, I'd be perfectly fine joining you, but as she has not I see fit to call Emerson or the police, but Emerson is most likely very busy and Olive is relishing in the fact that she has me cornered…."

Everyone watched in confusion as he came to a mental conclusion as to why he was in Grimmauld Place, in this strange town. And who Olive was, exactly. None of them knew anyone by such a name, deeming it to be quite childish in their thoughts.

"-and then there's the matter of Chuck- why does Olive have to do such things?!" the man continued murmuring to himself, muscles tensing as he slapped his chest with his hands, which were turning red from lack of bloodflow. Tendons stretched underneath skin, biceps bulging as his arms were bent. It made Remus pull his jacket tighter around himself, to compare muscles, but Nymphadora simply smirked at him.

"And why is Ned here, Remus?" she asked sweetly, although he could see the taunting glint in her eyes. She was curious, as was the rest of the Order. Her voice was low, a whisper only he could hear. The werewolf felt eyes boring into him, but he ignored them as everyone went back to the table, seating themselves in their respective chairs. Sirius gave him a questioning look, but Remus merely sat next to him, watching as the Weasley twins positioned Ned so he sat with his back against the wall, next to George's chair.

"Alright, listen if it's money you want-" Ned began, his face turning red with embarrassment.

"We don't want money, don't worry," Fred laughed at him with a polite smile.

"What else would you kidnap me for?" Ned seemed to be cautious, folding in on himself as a thought dawned on his features, "Oh dear God."

"What?" was Harry's reply.

"Please don't do that to me."

Now Remus was confused, the look of fear etched into the man's eyes. He looked like a puppy that had run away from home, only to find out his master had replaced him when giving up the search.

"What do you mean by…. oh," Hermione piped up, her eyes widening with horror as she added, "Do you really think we're that depraved?!" Already however, Ned was bracing himself for the oncoming storm that was Hermione Granger, and Sirius gently placed a hand on her shoulder. Clearing his throat, Remus finally spoke up.

"Ned- it's alright if I call you that, right?- Ned, you're here because of a very specific purpose," Remus explained. "I assume you still have that letter?"

A beat.

Nodding, Ned jutted his chin at Molly Weasley, who had gone to scold her sons for making him sit on the floor. Wrists tensing against the ropes, Ned said, "She, uh, she still has it, I think." A rustling of paper, and Molly handed Remus the note, all the while still pinching Fred's (or was it George?) cheeks. Honestly, he had trouble figuring out the difference most days. Trouble crossed his fair features as Remus took it, opening it to scan, Sirius glancing at it over his shoulder.

"I-it said I lost something…?" Ned asked with uncertainty, "I'm not really sure what they meant by that."

"I'm sure Dumbledore can explain it," Remus said, tucking the note into his coat pocket. Ned mouthed the name curiously as Remus continued, "and just so you know, we made sure The Pie Hole, Olive, and Digby have been taken care of."

Harry laughed at Ned's reaction, his question, "How?"

"We have our ways, don't worry yourself dear," Molly cut in, guiding Ned up off the floor, "now why don't you take a seat? I'm sure the _floor_ is very _uncomfortable_." Ned was shaking, surprised as Molly gently tugged at the ropes round his wrists and let them drop to the floor. Ned's skin was chafed; red and raw from where they dug in, and Remus thought he could see thin lines of blood near his palms. The scraping of a chair was loud as Molly sat Ned down next to George (or was it Fred?) and across from Remus, the newcomer eyeing the redhead boy warily.

"So…. why am I here?" Ned finally asked after a good five minutes of silence.

Sirius clasped his hands in front of him, leaning forward. His black hair hung in a curtain, obscuring his face partially. Clearing his throat, he said, "There are reasons to believe that certain… people are after you."

"Excuse me?" Ned squeaked, his fingers curling against the edge of the table.

"I'm sorry, but we brought you here to keep you safe," Remus echoed.

"From the IRS?"

Judging from the look on Ned's face, he was about to piss himself. Or almost piss himslef. Remus laughed; Ned seemed the type to do so, overly anxious and paranoid about everything. Nodding, Remus chuckled.

"Yes!" he joked, "From the damned IRS!"

"What's the IRS?"

Everyone was surprised to find Ron speaking up, having stayed silent as he listened in on the whole ordeal. The lights overhead flickered, shadows creeping into the corners of the dining area.

"It's a Muggle thing, I'll explain later," Harry assured him.

"Muggle? What is that?" Ned asked.

Molly immediately turned red with anger. She wrung her hands, the bowl of the ladle she held banging carelessly against the wall. From another room Remus heard that damned portrait screaming bloody murder at the top of its lungs. _Why_ was Sirius so adamant on keeping that blasted thing?!

Of course, it was hard to tell who was screaming louder; the portrait, or Ned.

"You mean to tell me!" Molly shrieked possibly louder than Ned and the portrait combined, "That we basically kidnapped a goddamned Muggle who doesn't even have a _lick_ of sense when it comes to the wizarding world?!"

Remus felt his skin getting hot, sweat beading at the nape of his neck. Awkwardly, he wiped at it, the corner of his mouth twitching. The reason they had brought Ned to Grimmauld Place, well, that was a bit of a shocker, really. It had all been Dumbledore's idea, after learning of Voldemort's return. The werewolf shivered at the mere thought of the dark wizard, unable to bring himself to answer to Molly's anger.

Ever since the return of Voldemort- Remus had long given up on using the term "You-Know-Who" or "He-Who-Should-Not-Be-Named"), a darkness had spread across the wizarding world. Children and parents feared even going out to visit Hogsmeade, and that was a designated family area. Students at Hogwarts and even some teachers had decided not to return for fear of being attack or losing their positions if accused of being associated with his return at all.

And then he and Sirius had come across this nervous wreck of a man sitting in front of them. While visiting a quaint little pie shop- his very own Pie Hole, to be exact- they had seen him, well, kissing a sheet of plastic wrap quite passionately. No doubt he had done it multiple times, but Remus had been thankful he hadn't noticed them staring. The more alarming thing, however, was when he had picked up a strawberry from the counter.

Remus remembered it well. When he and Sirius had visited, a box of nearly rotted strawberries was sitting on the counter, free for the waitresses to pick at while the bussed tables and waited on the pies. He had seen the way the chef was glancing around before gingerly picking one up, the blackened fruit turning ripe by the second, bulging with flavor and juices.

So when Dumbledore had mentioned this man, Remus immediately knew he'd be an asset. Whether or not he had played a part in Voldemort's resurrection, they'd find out soon enough.

Sirius had to fight off a smirk as realization dawned on Ned's face.

"Exactly two years ago," Ned reminded himself, "You two walked in and sat down, Olive taking your order- I believe she flirted a little with you-" Ned pointed to Sirius "-before writing down that you had ordered a kiwi and banana pie."

"You Muggles eat some weird things," Ron commented, wincing as Hermione threatened to smack him upside the head.

"Wait-" Ned began.

It really had been Dumbledore's idea. Remus and Sirius were originally quite uncomfortable with the idea of kidnapping a random stranger, so the had waited. And then they had seen what he could do (whether or not he was aware was evident, as he began to ramble about someone named "Chuck" besides this Olive woman.)

"Ned, we brought you here because we have reason to believe you could have aided in the return of…. a certain someone, let's put it," Sirius cut the babbling baker off bluntly, his eyes having grown stern as he knit his brows together.

Ned seemed on the verge of tears at this point, "Wha-? If you mean Chuck then there is no way, my girlfriend is as alive as possible I promise I didn't go to the crime scene-"

Whatever he was busy talking about, no one knew, but it didn't matter. They had a job, and that was to get this man to speak. The painting a few rooms away had (thankfully) stopped screaming, and Ned's voice seemed to get higher and higher with each passing second. The chair was beginning to get uncomfortable for Remus, the wood scratching his back through his jacket.

They certainly had a long way to go if Dumbledore was sure that this man- this puppyish, nervous wreck of a baker- was the man they were looking for. A chill was suspended in the room, Remus pulling his coat tighter around himself as he glanced at his watch, however, he really wasn't reading the time, Ned's voice going in and out as he trembled. Before he could open his mouth to interrogate him some more, he was confused as Ned's voice broke through his trance:

"May I use your kitchen?"


End file.
